


Inescapable

by gldngrl7



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Consensual Sex, F/M, First Time, Gratuitous Smut, PWP, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gldngrl7/pseuds/gldngrl7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Uncharted PWP.  There's only one good way to blow off some steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inescapable

Disclaimer: Uncharted Series and characters owned by Naughty Dog Productions. No money is being made from the production of this story

 

Like the Dog Star and its white dwarf companion, the intensity of the gravity they create together keeps them locked in one another’s orbit whenever the other is near. It has been this way from the first moments of their acquaintance, and the power of it is taking them both by surprise. It is an irresistible attraction; like a string that connects them to each other. Where he goes, she is inexorably drawn and it is curiously the same for him.

She struggled to keep it professional as they were ostensibly searching for the final watery resting place of Sir Francis Drake. Nathan Drake (a dubious relation to Francis) was so effortlessly charming; so boyishly excited by the hunt – which made him all the more dangerously attractive. Finding out that Nate actually was pretty dangerous with all manner of weapons simply added another layer of mystery to the proceedings. And a good mystery was like catnip for intrepid reporter Elena Fisher.

When Elena and Nate dragged Sir Francis’ mostly empty casket from the bottom of the ocean, she’d felt a twinge of regret borne of the belief that their allotted time together was nearing its end. She willingly admits now that she had breathed a sigh of relief when the casket contained another mystery waiting to be revealed.

The next afternoon he and his business partner, Victory “Sully” Sullivan, had left her stranded on the dock with nothing but her cellphone, her camera, and the tip of an untold iceberg as they sped away in their chartered boat. Later, after tracking them down, her fist had been inexorably, gravitationally propelled into his face. She was angry with him for ditching her, but damn if she wasn’t still drawn to the man. And damn if he wasn’t happy to see her.

Over the next few days he showed her the kind of man he really was – one gun-fighting, and puzzle-solving adrenaline-rush at time. In the quiet moments, when they weren’t being hunted and they had a second to take a breath, they would breathe each other’s air, their bodies drawn unashamedly closer and closer. Through the course of their adventure she’d learned to trust him and he had learned to depend on her – needs that, for both of them, were hard won. And when it was all over, the treasure “liberated”, the mystery solved, and the bad guys defeated, neither one of them was quite ready to part ways.

Taking all of that into account, she is unsurprised two days later when he crowds her against the door of her rented Papua New Guinea bungalow and commandeers her mouth with his. Her mouth opens without semblance of protest and offers her tacit approval of his actions by invading the warm cavern of his mouth with her tongue. Elena’s fingers slide into his dark hair, alternately massaging and grasping, adding a touch of pain to the pleasure; because that’s the way she likes it. Elena Fisher is no wilting flower and she doesn’t abide a lover who treats her like crystal.

As if reading her thoughts, Nate grasps her hips and tugs her flush against him without an ounce of gentleness. A need for air forces their mouths apart and her eyes meet his straight on, passing hunger between them.

He had just meant to kiss her. To plant the seed for a future encounter; except that one kiss, like a brush fire, grew quickly out of control. “Damn, Elena,” he breathes, licking his lips before reaching for hers again. Instead of finding her mouth soft and willing, he discovers his way blocked by her forefinger.

“Inside,” she demands. The fingers of her other hand dig in her back pocket only to find it inexplicably empty.

“Looking for this?” he smirks, holding her room key aloft. Miraculously, with every nerve in her body on heightened alert Nathan Drake had managed to retrieve her key with a flawless lift. “Impressed?” he inquires with charmingly annoying eyebrow waggle.

Elena bites her bottom lip to suppress the smile that threatens to betray her and quirks one eyebrow upward. “At the moment…not looking to be impressed by your ability to get in and out undetected.”

She doesn’t have a chance to assimilate his reaction to her blatant innuendo because they stumble into her room as the door seems to melt away behind her. Apparently, opening doors silently is a skill Nathan clearly mastered long ago. He blindly kicks the door closed behind him as his hands go wild on her body and they take to ravaging one another’s mouths once more.

“Believe me,” he asserts when he tears his mouth away from hers, “when I’m done, you’ll definitely know I’ve been here.” He slides one hand up her front to cup her breast and emphasizes his point by squeezing it and passing his thumb over her eager nipple. Her layered tank tops do nothing to hide their reaction.

“Prove it,” she challenges. 

The predatory gleam in Elena’s eye redirects all blood flow to the appendage between his legs. “With pleasure,” he replies with a growl that perfectly matches the look in her eyes. Grasping her hips, Nate pulls her flush to his pelvis again and dives into her neck, placing open mouth kisses along her carotid artery. He can feel her pulse race in response to his touch and he smiles against her skin.

His hot, labored breath, heavy against the thin skin of her neck sends tendrils of electricity straight to her nipples, causing them to bead tightly and painfully. Her breasts become heavy with the need to be fondled and her belly floods with an arousal so fierce it takes her breath away. Deep in her gut she craves this man, the heat of his skin, the taste of it, and judging by the fervor with which he is leaving his mark on her neck and the fact that she’s certain that’s not a Desert Eagle in his pocket – he feels the same. Frantic for the feel of him, Elena grasps the hem of his shirt and yanks it upwards forcing their bodies to separate for a split second, which feels like a second too long.

She reaches for him, splaying her fingers across his tan chest to cover as much territory as possible before sliding them down to the taut muscles of his six-pack. Much as she expected, his acrobatic skills and rock-climbing acumen have served his body very well. Her fingernails scrape against his skin just enough to cause his abdomen to leap reflexively in response to her touch. The tip of her tongue tingles for a taste and before he has a chance to divine her purpose, she’s leaving open-mouth kisses on his pectorals. His eyes slam shut and his head drops back as the sensation turns from a spark into a raging fire in the space of second. His pants tighten in the front as his cock hardens within.

Instinctively, he reaches for her hair – to hold her against him or to pull her away if need be, he doesn’t know which – and it occurs to him that she’s still wearing it up in that messy contraption that’s supposed to keep it out of the way. He finds the clip and tugs it out before tossing it…somewhere, and finally he can run his fingers through hair.

It’s board straight and longer than he would have guessed, falling down to the middle of her back; it’s softer than he even imagined, and perhaps still a little damp from the shower she took after they checked in. When a tongue laves his nipple, he’s certain that time itself has come to a full stop because his heart seems to ker-thunk in his chest.

“Jesus,” he swears. His blood flash boils under his skin and all pretense of being a gentleman for Elena evaporates. 

By the time she unbuckles his belt and whips it out of the trouser loops, Nate decides it’s time to take back the control or risk losing it altogether. He grabs her wrists and tugs her hands away from his waistband, backs her up to the four poster bed and shoves her down hard enough to make her bounce. “So I guess we’re skipping the foreplay,” he says, gravel in his voice.

“What can I say?” she retorts with a chuckle, sitting up on her elbows. “I’m a girl that knows what I want.”

“I can respect that,” he smirks, his shoulders shrugging in mock surrender. Nate kicks off his shoes while simultaneously unbuttoning and then unzipping his trousers while she does the same. Leaving the fly of his pants gaping open, his boxer briefs accomplishing little in the way of concealing his erection, he bends over to grab the top of her pants and tugs them down her tan, toned legs, tossing them over the far edge of the king-sized bed. He’s surprised to find she’s been going commando. “No panties?” he grins, staring down at the triangular patch of dark blonde pubic hair that’s a few days late for its grooming.

“In a hot, humid environment?” she questions, shaking her head. “Not advisable.” She lifts her legs, dangling off the edge of the bed and plants her feet on the mattress, her knees bent as she leans back on her elbows. She feels not an ounce of shame for being naked from the waist down for the first time in front of him. Some people make her feel like she’s never wearing enough clothes – like her boss who always tries to undress her with his eyes – but with Nathan Drake it is the exact opposite. Since meeting him, she’s felt as if she’s been in a constant state of being overdressed whenever in his presence. As if she were meant to spend every moment with him naked, their heated flesh pressed together.

He loves that she is not shy about her body, which is sleek and toned and more importantly, he knows from experience, capable of keeping up with him. Their gravity pulls him to her, draws him in like a spell, and he forgets to finish undressing before his hands are travelling up her shins to her knees, savoring the raw silk of her skin. His hands slip between her knees and eases them open, laying her bare like a precious oyster.

With a flash of frantic breathlessness, Nate moves over her to settle between her thighs and in a state of near-frenzy he yanks her layered tank tops all the way to the hollow in her neck, displaying her clearly aroused breasts. He wastes no more time in an attempt to finish undressing her before his teeth clamp down on one taut nipple and he sucks it into his mouth simply for the pleasure of her reaction.

“Oh, God!” she shrieks. Her hands grasp reflexively at his hair as her hips buck beneath his belly. His tongue, which surely has some magical properties, swirls around her enflamed nipple before sucking at again in turns. Elena is certain she is on the verge of the most powerful explosion of her life and her hips buck involuntarily as her body seeks solace for the deepening ache within her. “Nate….” She whimpers his name with a voice she doesn’t recognize while she holds his head to her breast, drawing him closer to her. 

“You like that?” he asks, grimacing inwardly at the tinge of insecurity in his question. Nate wants to do right by her for reasons he doesn’t really understand, but he knows that what he feels for her, this gravity, is more powerful than anything he’s ever felt. Nathan Drake has been with prettier girls – women who used sex as a weapon and wielded it with consummate skill – but none of those women made him feel like crawling inside under their heart and taking up residence there. He’s flabbergasted to realize that’s exactly how he feels about Elena Fisher. “Tell me what you want,” he breathes. He peppers kisses across her chest, his left hand cupping her breast, fingers toying with the nipple.

“Harder,” she replies. “Do that harder.”

Nate complies, taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and it giving it a pinch and tug – testing the effect it will have on her. He feels Elena’s pelvis press up to him and notices the growing slickness against his abdomen. Groaning deep in his chest, his own hips buck against the mattress in a primal response to hers. “Harder?” he wonders.

“Yeah,” Elena moans, her head thrown back against the bad, silky blonde locks splayed around her. “Yeah, harder is good.” She heaves a deep breath in a strained effort to fill her lungs. “Harder is always good.”

“S’that so?” Nate pinches harder and rolls the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He likes to fuck wildly, with no thought for bruises and delicacy and thinks that maybe Elena is his match in more ways than one. Definitely not the pampered princess he’d first thought her to be – though that impression had, little-by-little, slipped away since the outset of their adventure together.

Elena chuckles throatily. “Yeah, that’s so. Think you can handle it, cowboy?” His fingers are heavily calloused and she can feel every delicious ridge and rough patch as he squeezes her entire breast with enough pressure to bring a little pain. She hisses with the pleasure of it, her mouth falling open as she gets even wetter.

“I can handle it,” Nate asserts. He devours her breast then, sucking as much as he can with all his might. She writhes beneath him, mercilessly scratching grooves into his shoulder blades and if he didn’t know any better he’d believe she is just about it to….

“Oh, God, YES!” She cries as the ecstasy washes over her, setting a prickling fire to her skin and stealing all of the oxygen from the room. The starbursts behind her eyelids spin and spin gloriously and her throat swallows the remainder of her cries. When air makes its way back into her lungs and she opens her eyes, she sees Nate staring down at her, his patented smirk on his face. “Shut up,” she instructs, her voice utterly lacking conviction.

“So, I guess that hit the spot, huh?” 

Elena grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls his mouth down to hers before he has a chance to say anything else, erotic or otherwise. She’s never been one to come easily, reaching and reaching for that explosion of bliss while oftentimes it recedes from her grasp like the waters of Tantalus’ torment. This one, it seems, rushed right up to her and detonated like a flashbang, taking her completely by surprise. But still it feels predictably hollow, and the convulsive rippling fades, leaving the ache for him that grows ever more demanding.

At first, lost in the kiss, he doesn’t notice her hand traveling away from his upper back and down his side to cunningly slip between their bodies. It’s not until he feels her fingers caressing the soft thatch of hair trailing from his navel to hidden places under the waistband of his boxer briefs, that he gets a sense of her plan. He has only a moment of dawning realization before she steals into the fabric and takes his hardening cock into her warm hand. Nate doesn’t have time to fortify himself against her assault so there’s no way to play it off with breezy charm. When she squeezes him he bucks hard against her hand, trapping it between their bodies and it’s only by grace that he doesn’t come right then. His entire body tightens as if an invisible vice has gripped him – it is the last warning he will get before the inevitable occurs – unless he takes action to prevent it. Hoping to relieve the mounting pressure, however briefly, Nate pulls himself up until he looms over her, his elbows locked in place and body separated from hers. He attempts a steadying breath before discovering that his move only gave her just the opportunity she needed.

With her free hand Elena tugs the front of his underwear down, freeing his cock from the superficial safety of its confines. In her hand, his dick is fevered with need, soft and hard at the same time, and large enough to make her feel like one incredibly lucky girl. She caresses the moist tip with her thumb and tickles the shaft lightly with just the pads of her fingers. She smiles to feel that he is now hard like iron and there would be no turning back even if he wanted to. 

“Crap!” he groans, his teeth grinding and jaw clenching with the strain of holding back.

“What are you waiting for Nate?” she teases. “Here I am.” She whispers seductively as she maneuvers the tip of his penis against her wet, throbbing opening. “I am wet,” she torments him, rubbing him against the slickness to demonstrate, “and I am willing. What are you going to do about it?”

Slipping inside just enough to find anchor, Nate reaches down and grabs her wrist and hauls it above her head. “I suppose,” he begins, “I’ll just do this.” With a swift, strong strike he embeds himself deeply within her, the tightness of her moist heat nearly putting an end to it all before it could begin.  
“Yes!” she exults. “That feels so good…so fucking good.”

Glancing down at where their bodies are joined, Nate pulls all the way out and with a crunch of his powerful six-pack he’s slamming back into her. He relishes the appreciative grunt of his partner, who seems not at all put off by the semi-roughness of his treatment. With an optimistic tone he asks, “Harder?”

Her thighs grip his hips as she wraps her legs around him. “Yeah,” she implores, her voice raising an octave. “Harder is good.” 

He complies with her wishes, as if let off the leash, proceeding with a slow and measured gusto, he batters her with such force he’s certain will leave her bruised. When morning comes, she will, without a doubt know that he’s been here.

She delights in the feel of his cock hammering into her, leaving its mark. There are times and places for slow sweet lovemaking, but her best results come with a good manhandling. In her experience, men like two things: to fuck and to dominate, and if they could do both at the same time, so much the better. And her most satisfying sexual experiences came when witnessing her partner in his primal state. The insensate display of power intoxicated her for reasons she didn’t comprehend with her modern brain, but could fully understand on a primal female level. The primal female in her wanted to be marked, chosen—to be dragged back to the cave – in full view of the madding tribe.

Elena’s legs unwrap from his waist and her thighs spread further, her knees dropping completely back to the bed as she opens for him. He rides her leaning forward on his knees, abdomen rippling with the effort as he leans into his hands, tightly gripping the comforter beside her hips. She reaches around his waist and slides her hands down his ass to feel the rock hard muscles contract and release with the exertion of pounding her. A fine sheen of sweat now covers his chest and back and she can feel the beads slowly beginning to track down his spine. Her body hums with the heated glow of impending satisfaction and Nate’s cock inside her is so powerful that she lurches closer and closer to the headboard with each thrust.

“Elena!” he swears between clenched teeth as her hands encourage him to move even harder. His slow but powerful rhythm falters and he stops completely inside of her.

“Don’t stop, Nate,” she cries, even as pulls out of her. Only yawning emptiness fills her now, where a moment ago there was complete fullness. The humming electricity inside her recedes into the background and she pouts her disappointment at a lost opportunity. “Damn it!”

“Just a new plan of attack,” Nate assures her. He scoops his elbows under her knees and leans forward until her they’re hooked over his shoulders. With a hand on his cock, he guides himself back into her passage, which seems only too happy to accept him. Sliding home, he wonders how he ever mustered the strength to leave. His pelvis jerks on instinct and it’s only a moment before he finds his new rhythm. This time it’s a string of quick thrusts followed by a bruising plunge; and if her panting, greedy pleas for more are to be judged, this tempo is filling her needs just fine.

“Yes, yes, yes! More…don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” Even through the sound of blood rushing through her ears, she can hear the sounds of their bodies crashing together and she never wants it to end. Naturally, the buzz begins within her again, building from the very pit of her belly, the muscles there clenching together as if to ease her orgasm into birth. Elena’s eyes clamp shut in concentration but the buzz stubbornly levels off.

“Hey there,” Nate says, his voice like warm honey. “Remember me?” 

It’s seeing his face and the piercing blue of his eyes that kicks the buzz out of its frustrating plateau. He feels so good inside of her and she feels completed somehow by his nearness. Francis Drake’s ring dangles before her, swinging near her face in time to its Master’s dance. Like a hypnotist’s focal point, Elena latches onto the sight of the ring, tuning in to the erotic cadence of its movements and suddenly it’s as though her nerve endings discover a whole new level of sensation.

“Oh, God, Nate! Just like that…I’m so close…ohGodohGodohGod!” She can’t seem to catch her breath, her barely comprehensible words coming in a rush. Every muscle in her body coils in preparation and her hips tilt up to take him further inside. He’s touching the very core of her and she feels like she’s back on the bridge, dangling powerlessly over the gorge, with only Nate’s determined grasp keeping her tethered to this life. She’s falling, soaring, grabbing at anything she can in a desperate bid to find purchase; the billowy hotel comforter beneath her, the bulging biceps of Nate’s arms – anything solid within arm’s length is fair game. His arms offer the most stability and so she latches on; her short fingernails, made ragged by their jungle adventure digging mindlessly into him. His arms are like moveable stone wrapped in velvety skin; they bunch and release but he seems not to notice the damage she’s doing to him – or perhaps he just doesn’t care. Elena knows that about him; that his tolerance for pain seems practically superhuman – or maybe it’s that his determination and tenacity can override such a small obstacle as a little physical discomfort. 

Then, when the anticipation has taken to her to very edge of its precipice, she is exploding into a million shards of herself. Her mouth, unable to form words, emits the primitive sounds of excruciating pleasure.

“Yeah!” he growls, enjoying the hell out of watching the red blush spread across the luminescent skin of her chest. He feels like a god – like he can do anything he wants to her and she will let him. “Hell, yeah!” he growls again. His head swims from the lack of blood flow so it’s a piece of luck that he doesn’t need his brain to finish what he’s started. Her inner muscles clamp erratically, deliciously around his cock, drawing him deeper within. His thrusts become short and swift, unable this time to force his dick to withdraw more than halfway from her. Leaning all of his weight onto one arm, Nate sweeps one of her seemingly boneless legs off of his shoulder and slips his free hand between their bodies to the place of their joining. He watches her face as he blindly seeks the fierce bundle of nerves that will detonate her once more. Three orgasms in one night would be a record for him and now faced with the possibility; he can’t bring himself to turn down the challenge.

A harsh intake of breath and a high insensible squeak from Elena tells him he’s found what he’s looking for. He grins savagely in the knowledge that he’s brought her to this – turned her into an insensate body composed of little more than nerve bundles and primitive instinct. Nate plucks at the swollen bundle of nerves delighted and emboldened when each touch is followed by a sharp, ragged inhale and a jerk of her limbs, as if she is a marionette and he the master, manipulating her strings. 

His ring still dangles and dances in front of her half-closed eyes with each lunge and parry, but she can barely see it, her vision clouded in a haze of agonizing pleasure. All Elena knows is that it’s never been this good; she didn’t even know it could be. She licks at her dry lips and twitches uncontrollably again as his calloused finger swipes at her clit. She’s not sure what he’s playing at because she’s pretty sure she is played out. “Can’t,” she gasps, shaking her head from side to side, unable to say more.

“Will,” he demands. Nate sets about proving her wrong, by increasing the pace and pressure applied by his finger.

“Fuck!” Her response is instantaneous and she’s surprised she can’t smell ozone from a lightning strike because she feels like she’s been pummeled by 50,000 volts. Elena is next struck with the terror that Nathan Drake is tearing down all the walls that keep her sane and that she’d been a fool to think that this thing between them was something she could control. Unbelievably, the rawest of energy gathers within her once more and she is made whole by the power of it.

Nate rages with desire for her – this gorgeously plain girl-next-door. There’s not an ounce of anything exotic about her; no mysterious accent, no glances filled with coy flirtation – even the way she seduces him is straightforward and without hidden agendas. She is a breath of fresh air and she stokes the fire in him higher than he thought possible. She will surely be the death of him one day, he thinks.

When they come, he mere seconds after her, they’re like supernovae – two stars collapsing in on one another to create an unparalleled gravitational vortex. Inescapable and irrevocable. She clings to him while simultaneously falling apart. HIs mouth ravenously consumes her cries, clutching at her hip to hold her in place as he fitfully finishes inside of her with a groan of unquestionable satisfaction.

Their bodies melt into one as ragged breaths from overtaxed lungs clash and mingle, filling the room with the sound of it. He’s still inside of her, his sated cock loath to separate, but he knows that her struggle to breathe is hampered by the weight of his body on top of her. With a last surge of strength, Nate gathers her tightly against him and rolls to his back. Her boneless form settles atop him with her head tucked beneath his chin. Within a moment her breath settled into a soft purr on his chest.

“That was….” He attempts. Words fail him, as they often do in times when they’re most needed.

“Something else,” she sighs. Her voice is groggy as she fights off the inevitable pull of sleep. It’s been a long few weeks on the hunt for Francis Drake’s trail and the location of the mythical El Dorado and it seems that the exhaustion is catching up with her. With no small amount of help from the multiple-orgasms culled by the skillful and calloused hands of Nathan Drake. Her eyes drift closed and she can’t resist burrowing into his warmth a little deeper as she floats closer to sleep.

Nate’s hands splay across her back, caressing her right into sleep. Fighting off the drowsiness, he wants to hang onto this feeling of completeness for as long as he can, to draw every last breath from the life of it. He doesn’t understand this need to hold her in his arms and puzzles at it as he traces formless shapes over the canvas of her back. Nathan Drake has always prided himself on his independence. He doesn’t need anyone – except Sully – but certainly not some slip of a girl that has invaded his life and even in sleep clings to him like a lifeline. He doesn’t need to feel this warmth that seeps into him and acts like a balm to his soul. He doesn’t need to worry about losing her now that he’s found her. He doesn’t need any of that.

He doesn’t deserve her anyway, he knows. Elena Fisher is way out of Nate’s league. He has spent the last few weeks, it seems, making choices designed to impress her like some damned schoolboy desperate for her approval. As if he was trying to be good enough for her. He will never be good enough for her; he has known it since the moment they met. What would girl like her ever want with a street-rat like him, anyway?

But for reasons Nate doesn’t care to second guess, he’s Elena’s Mister-Right-Now and he’s happy to play that role until she comes to her senses. Quieting the clamor in his brain, Nate closes his eyes and lets the pull of sleep drag him under.


End file.
